
I'm still more in his debt than he is in mine, believe me." "Even though I've reaped a lot of benefits from it, it still a book or a record or an idea.

Its premise: Capitalism is a four-letter word. RRC, which proudly proclaims itself "the Voice of the Undesirable Element," is pugnaciously political. While Marsh worked on his latest book - a sequel to his bestselling 1979 Springsteen biography "Born to Run" - he could gaze out at a stand of hundred-year-old ash trees.Īt the same time, he regularly abandoned his country retreat for the editorial marathons that produce Rock & Roll Confidential, the monthly newsletter he cofounded and edits. Marsh, who continues to wear his blue-collar lineage like a banner across his chest, spent much of last year in his airy Connecticut carriage house writing approvingly about Springsteen's overtures to unemployed steelworkers and food bank organizers. You, the dummy in the corner with the unused brain, come over here.' "Īnd though Marsh is a bestselling rock writer now, Bruce Springsteen's Boswell, a publisher, a putative grown-up far from Pontiac, "esthetically, I've never left." it was like, 'Oh, you're a lout? Come over here. Rock 'n' roll - as the white teen-ager listening to the black singer in the racially festering town came to believe unwaveringly - was "a voice for people without a voice, culture for people who came from places defined as barbaric.

"I guess you could call it an epiphany," says Marsh, remembering his galvanic reaction to Smokey Robinson's hungering falsetto in 1964. NEW YORK - Dave Marsh got rock 'n' roll religion on a sticky summer night in Pontiac, Mich., when he was 14 and "You Really Got a Hold on Me" glided through the speaker of his AM radio.
